Memories
by SweetPea1789
Summary: A Mother's Gift to Her Son...a different kind of LJ, with a twist at the end!


When I was eleven years old I first became acquainted with James Potter, and I'll be the first to admit, it was not love at first sight. In fact, one might go as far as to call it loathing at first sight. For the first four years that I knew him we had a love-hate relationship; he loved me and I hated his very being. Now, I was never one quick to judge, and at eleven years old I was wise beyond my years, but James Harold Potter was something else entirely. He was one of those people that everything just came so easily too! He was smart, handsome, a natural flyer, charming, not to mention almost every student in Hogwarts adored him, and as superficial as it sounds, he was extremely popular. And when you're 11-14, popularity is everything. So a bit of the reason I, er, disliked him so much, was jealousy. At the time, if you would have told me that I was jealous of James Potter, I would have sent you directly to St. Mungos; and even today as I sit here writing this, the thought of me being jealous of James simply makes me cringe. But that is the simple truth, and as odd as it seems he was a little in awe of me as well.  
  
His intentions as far as I was concerned were pretty clear: he liked me in a way that a first grader likes a little girl so he pulls on her pig tails all the time. And for a while it sucked. And then eventually (the beginning of third year) I became accustomed to his incessant tugging and teasing about my red hair and green eyes. And then, at the end of fourth year, the teasing stopped. The pestering stopped. The incessant asking me out stopped. But the daily chocolate frogs (my favorite) and sugarquills (his favorite) kept arriving, as they had every day since two weeks into my first year. But after he stopped bugging me they never quite tasted the same.  
  
At first I had been reluctant to eat these candies, but then I reasoned with myself, Potter isn't going to quit bothering me, I might as well get some candy out of it. I still have the first chocolate frog and sugarquill I ever received from him, both still perfectly wrapped tucked away in my old school trunk. Don't ask me why I saved them, at the time I remember saying to myself, "I'll save these to test for poison later," and eventually, as eleven year olds tend to do, I forgot about the little sugar confections tucked away in the bottom of my trunk. When I arrived home for the summer holiday after my first year I came across them, and sighed muttering damn that Potter! But I kept a secret little smile on my face for the rest of the day.  
  
And then at the end of fourth year, the night of the leaving feast, something changed. I was standing outside the great hall chatting with my friends Morwena Marchbanks and Emmaline Vance about our plans for the summer.  
  
"Well, I'm sure you'll be hearing a lot from Mr. Potter, our resident Romeo," teased Emmaline, or Emmy to her friends, which was basically everyone. Emmy was a people magnet and everyone wanted to be around her, she was very playful and maternal, she had a kind word for everyone.  
  
"Well if he does send me an owl I do hope his mother knows how to treat undiluted bubotubor puss wounds!" I replied, smirking lightly. The sad thing was, I really wasn't joking.  
  
"Yes, well I'll be sure to send a book to Mrs. Potter on curses and maladies with Mom when she goes to Potter Manor for their weekly bake club," Morwena chimed in. Morwena was much like Emmaline, and very different at the same time. They were both very well liked, but where Emmy was sweet, Morwena was sarcastic and sharp witted. James and Morwena were on friendly terms, their mothers Melody Marchbanks and Cecilia Potter were close friends, and the two families lived across the street from each other.  
  
"Like he deserves it! He swaggers around here with that infuriating hair and those cockeyed glasses," at this point I am ashamed to admit that I began my famous James Potter impression while unbeknownst to me, Potter was right behind me. "Ooooh look at me! I'm James Harold Potter, you know one of the Potters of Godric's Hollow," I mimicked in an exaggerated deep voice, "I'm sure you've heard of us, my father is the minister of magic, you know Harold T. Potter." Emmy was giggling like mad, and Morrie was looking at me with an unreadable look in her eyes, "I'm also seeker on the Gryffindor quidditch team, and that means that every girl who sees me mu-" at this point Emmy cleared her throat and directed her eyes at a spot just behind my right shoulder. I whipped around to find a very puce and very angry James Potter. He looked furious, embarrassed, and for some reason betrayed.  
  
"So, that's it, huh? You know something, you're really not worth it Evans," he snarled, with something akin to disgust on his face. He turned to enter the great hall "and another thing," he added whirling around, "I do not swagger!"  
  
And I spent an entire holiday stewing over it. But everyday that long summer, I received a sugarquill and a chocolate frog.  
  
Fifth year was strange. I tried my best to act like I didn't care that James Potter had given up on me. I mean, as much as he annoyed me (and he really, really annoyed me) It was still flattering that anyone could be that devoted to me. And that encounter at the end of fourth year was an enormous blow to my self-esteem. But I played it off like his newfound indifference was some huge relief, and life moved on. With the Potter-Evans conflict over with, I was able to be friends with the marauders, excluding James of course. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were actually quite charming, not to mention devilishly handsome. And since I was no longer deemed 'Potter Property,' boys began to ask me to Hogsmeade. In the course of my fifth year I dated Amos Diggory, Lucas Cox, and Seamus Norman. Still, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get that image of hurt, rejection, and disgust that I had seen in Potter's eyes out of my head. And the candy kept coming.  
  
The summer after my fifth year Voldemort got my parents. It was a mass muggle-murder in Surrey, where they were spending a week on a holiday. I was staying at Morwena's when I received the news. Morrie and I were in her front yard charming dungbombs to look like Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans to give to Potter (who if you'll remember, lived across the street from the Marchbank home).  
  
The front door swung open and Mrs. Melody, Morwena's mother, came out.  
"Morrie," she said her voice shaking, "the kitchen needs to be cleaned."  
Morwena sighed and rolled her eyes as she pulled herself up and brushed the grass off of her shorts, "Yes Mother." "I'll go help," I said brightly, not knowing that in a few short moments my world would crumble.  
"No dear," Melody said, her voice cracking, "just sit out here with me for a while." Morwena shot me a look and walked inside the house.  
"..Okay...? Is there something wrong?" I asked the older woman, beginning to feel a bit worried.  
"Darling, there is no easy way to say this, but there was an attack in Surrey this morning," she said carefully as though trying to get me to put the pieces together. I was vaguely aware of a pressure building in my head and on the back of my neck.  
"You're parents, they were..." at this point I let out a strangled whimper, trying to stop her from saying 'killed' or 'murdered'. If she said it that would mean it was real. She pulled me into a motherly hug, and I wanted nothing more than to slap her for it. She was tall and thin, she didn't have the soft padding of my mother's petite frame. She didn't smell like my mother, she didn't have my mother's ginger hair. She was not my mother.  
  
I roughly pulled myself from her embrace and managed to choke out, "Please. I need...I need...just please." I jogged down the front lawn and onto the street, not bothering to step over her Gardenias. I paused long enough to see James Potter looking out of the second story window of his house, his face unreadable. But I didn't give a damn. My jog turned into a sprint and all I could hear was the pounding in my ears and the slap of my shoes against the asphalt, I didn't know where I was going, all that was important was that I went.  
  
I passed children on broomsticks, the same way in a muggle neighborhood you would see them on bicycles. One child appeared to be using his mother's wand to make bubbles fly out of her mouth as she tried to punish him. I ran faster. At some point it grew dark and rain began to fall. Somehow the rain tranquilized me. The damn sunshine had infuriated me, how could sun possibly shine on a day like today? I stopped running and dropped to my knees in the middle of street, willing the world to stop turning for a few moments to let me catch up. I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, but soon I felt strong, gentle hands pulling me to my feet. I turned around and looked into the face of James Potter. But it was not the arrogant boyish face I was used to seeing, it was the mature face of a young man. I was shocked to see that somewhere between the pranks, quidditch, and heartache; he had grown up. His large hazel eyes showed nothing but concern. He pulled a warm cloak around my narrow shoulders.  
  
"James...they...he...I just..." I trailed off not being able to continue. He simply nodded his head, and I knew no other words needed to be spoken. He wrapped his right arm around my shoulder, and grasped my elbow with his left. My arms hung limply at my sides, and for a little while he wasn't James Potter, he was just a person who happened to care enough to chase after me in a freezing rain, give me the cloak off of his back, and save me from myself. We walked in silence and about halfway to Morwena's the rain let up. I stopped and turned toward him, my eyes glossy. And for the first time since I had heard the dreadful news, I cried. I didn't just cry. I sobbed. I mourned for the injustice of it all, for the fact that my mother and father were taken from me because of their muggle heritage, for Petunia who was sure to be angry and confused; but mostly I cried for myself, and for a world where discrimination made orphans of children. I looped my arms around his waist, this stranger whom I had known for five years, and clung to him like a lost child. We stayed like that for a fraction of eternity and then I just pulled away and we continued our way home.  
  
When we reached Morwena's the entire Marchbank and Potter family were waiting anxiously on the front porch. Melody, Morwena, and Cecilia ran out to meet us. Morrie wrapped me in one of those wonderful bone-crushing hugs that only best friends can give. As the three women led me into the house I turned and looked over my shoulder at a very empty looking James Potter who was standing where I had left him, very confused. When I awoke the next morning there were two perfect sugarquills and two chocolate frogs sitting beside my bed.  
  
The funeral was hell, as was the rest of my summer. My older sister was very quiet, and was hardly at home at all. When she was home, she spent most of her time locked in her room. My house was disturbingly empty without my father's booming voice and my mother's tinkly laugh. My aunt and uncle were staying with us, but that didn't change the emptiness that constantly filled me.  
  
My sixth year was the hardest year of my life, but I made it through, and that's what matters. My relationship with James changed drastically. He became someone that I trusted, and I valued his friendship immeasurably. I had put him through hell, and he had still been there for me. He was still willing to be my friend, and that meant a lot. I gradually stopped dating, and began spending more time with James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Emmaline, and Morwena. The seven of us formed an indestructible bond that six of us still hold to this day. I valued these friendships above all. They were my support system, my safety net. Whether I needed a cheery joke, or a sincere talk, they were there for me; and I for them.  
  
The summer of sixth year I began developing more than friendly feelings for James. I spent the majority of my summer at Morrie's, Emmy stayed there as well. I spent a lot of time with James that summer. I can still remember when I began to feel the all too familiar butterflies in my stomach whenever he was near. I couldn't help but notice the cruel irony that I only began respecting him for the person he was after he stopped liking me. Everything that had seemed so annoying when I was younger was all of a sudden vital to who he was; his black mop of hair, his glasses, his rather long (but handsomely so) nose, were all so endearing, and his hard body from quidditch didn't hurt either. The strange thing was, after I unearthed these startling feelings, nothing changed. I realized that I didn't have to change at all for him. He accepted me just as I was, no strings attached.  
  
Both James and I were procrastinators when it came to astronomy, so at 3:00 a.m. September 1st , we were sitting on his roof in between our respective telescopes. Our star charts were scattered all around us, and the air was positively stagnant. I was exhausted, but being in such close proximity with him made my head buzz. I unsuccessfully stifled a yawn, and James turned to me chuckled, and said, "Tired?"  
  
"No, not a-a-at all," I said between yawns. He laughed again and I observed the way his hazel eyes sparkled in the darkness of the night. I laid back and felt the roughness of the shingles on the roof through my thin shirt as I looked up at the sky. I had never seen so many stars. The scratching of James's quill and the steady hum of the crickets lulled me into a light sleep.  
  
"Lily, Lil, come on it's almost daylight we fell asleep," James said in a hushed voice as he gently shook my shoulders. I opened my eyes and James Potter's face was a mere foot a way from mine. He gently tugged me to my feet, and we stood up and gathered our papers.  
  
"Well, I'll definitely be sleeping o-o-o-on the express this year," I said yawning.  
  
"Don't y-y-y-awn. Yawns are contagious," he said, a playful smile on his tired face. I laughed and smiled back at him, and for a second we just stood there, grinning at each other. After a moment the tips of his ears turned pink and we began gathering the charts again. I knew something was about to happen, I could feel it. And then something did. We both bent over to pick up the same chart, and our hands brushed, and he grabbed my small hand in his large one, and we slowly stood up to face each other. He brought my hand up to his smooth cheek, and before I knew what was happening, he cupped one hand at the base of my neck and put his other on the small of my back, leaned in and kissed me. My first kiss with James was a pure simple kiss, without tongue or groping, but it held so many emotions. Somehow it seemed like my entire reason for being on this earth was so I could live in that one divine moment, and I could kiss James Potter. My mother used to say that Heaven was living in your one perfect moment; and I know that that first kiss will be the one that I take with me.  
  
When we announced that we were a couple, none of our friends really seemed very surprised. I mean, of course Sirius, Remus, and Peter teased us relentlessly, and Morrie and Emmy enjoyed writing JP 4 LE on everything that I owned, but that was to be expected. And the sugarquills and chocolate frogs kept coming.  
  
My seventh year was glorious. James and I were named the head students of the school, and our relationship blossomed. My friendship with the marauders and Emmy and Morrie strengthened when midway through seventh year, Dumbledore invited us and 5 other students in our year to join an elite anti-Voldemort organization: The Order of The Phoenix.  
  
The night before graduation, I gave my virginity to James, and it was everything I wanted it to be and so much more. I knew that I loved James, but the passion that I felt for him was new to me, I had truly never felt that way before. As I stood naked before him, I felt more self-conscious than I ever had in my life. All it took was a simple "You're exquisite," from James, and I had never felt so beautiful.  
  
My last year at Hogwarts was by far my happiest, and the day I walked out of those doors for the last time, I felt an immeasurable sadness, but at the same time a complete and utter joy that I had made a life so meaningful for myself, all by the age of 17.  
  
By the first October after our seventh year, we were all fairly stable. James, Sirius, and Remus were sharing a flat; while Peter surprised us all by studying abroad. One day he and Dungy Fletcher were shopping in Hogsmeade for new books on concealment charms, and he entered a contest at Flourish and Blotts. The winner got a fully paid trip around Europe by train. Well, Pete entered, and he and one other person won. I can't quite remember the other passenger's name, I met him once...something with a Q...Quire or Quarel...or Quirrel, something along those lines; I just remember Sirius cracking a bunch of 'queer' jokes. Anyway, Emmaline and I shared a flat a stone's throw from the boys' place. Morwena was living at home because her mother had taken frightfully ill, and since Morwena was training to be a medi-witch, she cared for her.  
  
Emmaline, Sirius, Remus, James, and I were all training to become Aurors. This meant long tiring hours, but the four of us thrived on it. Life went on, and I was still able to wake up to sugarquills and chocolate frogs every morning.  
  
On January 1, James proposed. We were snuggling under bundles of blankets on the roof of his flat. The blue flames from the jar in front of us illuminated his face, and he had never seemed so beautiful. I had no idea it was coming, and to be completely honest, when he proposed I almost toppled off of the roof!  
  
He leaned over and whispered into the freezing night, "I love you Lil, since we were eleven years old," at this I laughed softly, "and I still love you. I did some math last night, and I figured that all in all I've sent you about 2,700 sugarquills and chocolate frogs in my lifetime, and I want nothing more than to send you 2,700 more; but I have something I need you to do for me, before I can guarantee you anymore candy." At this he looked up at me expectantly.  
  
"Yes...?" I answered, oblivious to what he was implying. I can be a bit thick sometimes and I had no idea where his little rambling monologue was going.  
  
"Yes, well...in order to ensure that you get one chocolate frog and one sugarquill every day for the rest of your life, you have to marry me." And then I almost fell off of the roof; thankfully James had chaser reflexes, and he caught me swiftly in his arms. I looked up at his pleading brown eyes, and I knew that there was only one answer I could give. I pulled his mouth down to mine and we shared our second of many rooftop kisses.  
  
The ring was small and perfect, and much to Sirius's dismay, I would not allow him to put an engorgement charm on it; this lead to a scandalous debate among Remus, Sirius, and Morwena about whether or not 'size matters'.  
  
The wedding was small and informal, with only James and I in dress robes. We were only able to invite James's family and the members of the Order, since a large gathering of wizards would be a hit spot for Voldemort and his minions.  
  
Being married to James is wonderful, to be able to wake up each morning next to him, and share our odd habits with each other was somewhat surreal. And for a while, everything in my life was perfect. And then it changed. Voldemort embarked on a torrid killing spree.  
  
On April 28, the Marchbank family was completely wiped out. From Morwena's 83 year old grandmother to her 4 month old third cousin. Every trace of Marchbank blood. They even killed the house elf. Although it was small in number, the Marchbank family was one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world. Voldemort was able to eliminate the entire family by striking three different locations, all in 24 hours. No one knew it was coming. Sirius, Remus, Emmaline, James, and I; being aurors in training; were assigned to go evaluate the scenes of the murders. We were assigned teams and locations and I ended up with Sirius at Morwena's house.  
  
When I received my assignment, I promised myself I would do my damndest not to look at Morwena's corpse. But once I entered the house, where I had spent so many happy days, her body was like a muggle car accident. You don't want to look, but your eyes are somehow magnetically drawn to it.  
  
She was lying face up in the middle of her living room floor. Her pretty brown hair spilled around her head like a fan. Her dressing gown was torn and it was pulled up around her knees. It was obvious the deatheaters had taken liberties with her before casting Aveda Kedavra. I was vaguely aware of Sirius swearing under his breath, and his warm arm around my shoulders. Burning tears threatened to spill over, but I could feel Alastor Moody's eyes on me, studying me for signs of weakness. I held my chin up high, until I looked into the cold unseeing eyes of my dearest friend. Then I turned and buried my head in Sirius's welcoming shoulder and cried. Auror or not, she was my sister. I looked up at Sirius's face and saw, for the first time in my life, tears in his gray eyes. I think Sirius was always a bit in love with Morrie; but then again, everyone was.  
  
The day after Morwena's funeral Harold and Cecelia Potter were murdered. I was with James when we received the news. We were in a meeting of the Order, when all of a sudden Mundungus busted through the door, pink faced and shaking.  
  
"...darkmark....minister...not sure...," he panted. At the mention of the minister James jumped to his feet.  
  
"What? The darkmark is over the minister's house?" asked Sirius, his voice panicky.  
  
"Yes!" replied Dungy, catching his breath. But James had already disapperated with a crack.  
  
We got to James as soon as we could, but he had already seen his parents' dead bodies, rigid from the Cruciatious Curse. While the other aurors examined the crime scene, Sirius and I went up stairs to find James.  
  
He was in his old bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes held no tears. I stood in the doorway, as Sirius went over and enveloped him in a brotherly hug. James just sat there staring at a framed photograph on his dresser. Sirius sighed and stepped back.  
  
"I'll leave you two to it then," he said, and he left the room. James still seemed unaware that anyone was in the room. I walked over to his dresser and tenderly picked up the photograph. It was a wizarding photograph, taken the day James was born. Cecelia Potter was beaming and cooing at the giggling baby in her arms while Harold Potter toyed with James's perfect little round toes. James had been there for me when I was in need, and now I needed to be there for him.  
  
I set the picture back on the dresser and went and stood in front of James. He seemed to be looking through me. I cupped my hand under his chin, and tilted his face up to mine. I leant over and kissed his forehead. I sat down and pulled him down beside me on the floor. His back was against the foot board of the bed, and I slid into his lap and wrapped my arms around him and squeezed every ounce of love I had in my body into him. He looked up at me from under his long dark lashes with those beautiful eyes of his staring out of his doll like face, pleading for me to help make this pain go away. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him, and he buried his face in my neck. And then he began to cry. And in that moment, when I first sat there feeling my 21 year old husband shake and sob, I knew that I would die for him without a second thought. And we sat there for hours; crying in each others arms.  
  
After these murders Dumbledore advised James and I to relocate, and we did. However, I'm not sure this is exactly what he had in mind. We now live in Godrics Hollow. James and I talked it over and we decided, that if Voldemort was going to try and take us, we would not go down without a fight. You see, a life lived in fear is no life at all.  
  
We now live in James's parents house. The neighbors are ideal. Across the street is Arabella Figg, a squib in her forty somethings with a fetish for cats, she is a new member of the Order. Right next-door is a newlywed couple, Frank and Alice Longbottom; they're in the Order of The Phoenix as well. With five members, living in the same cul-de-sac, the current headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix was born: my living room.  
  
I just found out yesterday that we will soon have use of the small bedroom down the hall: it will be a nursery. We've decided to wait until the birth to find out whether we'll be raising a little witch or a little wizard. I don't mind either way, but I know James secretly wants a little boy. If we have a boy, he'll be named Harold James Potter. If we have girl, she'll be named Morwena Cecelia Potter.  
  
And that brings me to why I am writing this. I know that I am going to die. It's no secret that James and I are on the top of Voldemort's hit list. But I am not going down without a fight. We've decided to appoint Peter Pettigrew as our secret keeper, much to Dumbledore's chagrin. Sirius was our original choice, but he somehow didn't deem himself worthy; he always did have self esteem issues. Since Peter's trip goes on for another 7 months, Voldemort has no idea where he is, and when he gets back, no one will think he is our secret keeper since he has been gone for 2 years. Albus is begging us to make him our keeper, but James and I both would rather die than put Dumbledore in danger. Wizard kind needs Albus Dumbledore more than anyone knows.  
  
So I am writing this to my precious little son or daughter and my friends that I am leaving behind. I love you all, you mean more to me than you could ever comprehend. You didn't simply fulfill my life; you made my life, you were my life. Thank you.  
  
James,  
  
If you are reading this, then it means that I am dead. Voldemort. The very name makes me shake. Not with fear, but with rage. But we won't let him win. I love you James. I always have (there I said it!), I guess my heart just didn't register with my brain until sixth year. When everything in my life changed, you were constant, and you kept me sane. Thank you, for teaching me that to have faith in others, I must first have faith in myself. I know that between the two of us (and the baby makes three!) Voldemort stands no chance. I hope to Merlin you never have to read this, but if you do; know that I want you to keep living and keep loving. With a zillion sugarquill and chocolate frog kisses, Love, Lily  
  
My Baby, Little one, if you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. My only hope is that I got to see you grow up into the fine man (or woman) that you surely have become. As I sit here writing this, you aren't even a bulge in abdomen yet; but I feel like I have known you my whole life. Between your father and I, you surely will be courageous, short tempered, intelligent, loyal, compassionate, and most likely nearsighted. And I do hope you didn't get James's hair (especially if you are a girl!). I hope you go to Hogwarts and it becomes as much of a home to you as it was for me. I hope you understand loss and heartbreak, as well as love. I hope you make as valuable friends as I have. I hope you are gracious to your juniors as well as elders. And I hope that you never take your childhood for granted. But above all; live. I pray to Merlin that Voldemort has been defeated by your time, but if he has not, you must fight. If not for yourself, then for those you love. Never fear death, but don't be afraid of life either. With love, Mama  
  
Seventeen years later a single silver tear slid down the pale cheek of a boy with messy black hair and emerald green eyes. "I will Mum, I will."  
  
The End.  
  
Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think! 


End file.
